


The IKEA Experiment

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Kids - Freeform, F/M, Gen, IKEA, Random - Freeform, Silly, Tumblr Prompt, Writing Prompt, Writing prompt: Write a follow-up for To bare one pain we all will share, lots of pictures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: A follow-up story to "To bare one pain we all will share" in which Jemma, Fitz, and Daisy look at the IKEA website. [This one is far less angsty and angry than the 1st part ;) ]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TashxTARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TashxTARDIS/gifts), [AchillesMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AchillesMonkey/gifts).



> AchillesMonkey mentioned wanting a Bus kids trip to IKEA in a comment to To bare one pain we all will share, and I tried to resist, but then TashxTARDIS (fitzsimmonsftw on Tumblr) also requested a follow-up, and I just can't say no to people... so here I am :)
> 
> I sincerely hope I do not offend anyone with my IKEA product selections.

Fitz had finished a preliminary design for Daisy’s new gauntlets while Jemma had patched her up, renewed the cast on her arm, and revisited the bullet wound in her shoulder. The air had still been tense, many words left unspoken, but they had come to the silent agreement that Jemma had been right: they needed some kind of normalcy, no matter how short-lived it would be, even if they had to pretend. They all needed it.

And so, a few hours later, they were sitting on the bed in Fitzsimmons’ room, Jemma in the middle, a laptop on her outstretched legs, Daisy and Fitz each to one side of her.

“Alright,” Jemma says enthusiastically, “let’s take a look, shall we?” She opens the laptop and goes straight to her browser, typing in the IKEA url.

Fitz leans slightly forward, glancing at Daisy, who—for a split-second—returns his gaze, a smile flashing across her lips that nonetheless can’t quite hide a lingering hint of sadness and guilt.

“You’re the boss,” Daisy mumbles, and Fitz wonders about the meaning behind the smug grin that Jemma directs at their prodigal friend.

Jemma seems strangely excited, almost aroused, when the main page loads on her screen. “Oh, it’s so wonderful. Our own apartment, Fitz!”

She gently slaps Fitz on his thigh. “It’ll come in _quite_ handy to have an engineer to put everything together.”

“I’m not gonna build all that by myself,” Fitz protests. “The bigger stuff is heavy. Not exactly a one-person job. You’ll have to help.”

“ _We’ll_ have to decorate,” Jemma counters, leaning closer to Daisy, who peeks from behind, grinning. “But we can recruit Mack,” Jemma continues, and Fitz is glad that she doesn’t seem to notice the pained look on Daisy’s face at Mack’s mention. “He should be _quite_ capable of heavy lifting, and his talents as a mechanic will come in handy as well.”

Trying to keep the focus on him, Fitz replies matter-of-factly, “Oh sure, he’ll be _thrilled_ that his talents will be useful in putting together particle board furniture.”

“He’ll be happy to help. He always helps, no matter what,” Daisy chimes in, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course he will,” Fitz replies softly.

Jemma clears her throat, her mood having noticeably shifted.

“Hey look, what about those barstools,” Fitz exclaims, pointing at Jemma’s screen, where a picture of a kitchen has shown up on IKEA’s main page.

It is a desperate attempt to refocus all of them on a happier topic. _He might as well try._

“Yeah,” Daisy takes the bait, “the kitchen in your new place has a nice counter. You’ll definitely need some barstools.”

“Definitely,” Jemma chimes in, “but not those.”

“ _Hell no!_ ” Daisy exclaims in agreement.

And so begins a long night of rejections for Leopold Fitz.

* * *

“What about this couch?” Fitz asks ten minutes later.

“We’re _not_ getting a white couch!” Jemma replies sternly.

“Why not? I thought white was elegant and classic,” Fitz counters.

“You’re a klutz when it comes to food. You’d have it stained in no time,” Jemma says, detailing her reasons.

“Plus, dude, it’s _way_ too small. Where would _I_ sit?” Daisy chimes in.

“And those legs?” Jemma comments.

“And you need to get a sleeper sofa. I mean, I want at least _some_ comfort when I’m crashing at your place,” Daisy adds.

“No, definitely a no,” both women say in unison.

* * *

“What about…”

But—25 minutes later—Jemma and Daisy don’t even attempt to pay attention to Fitz anymore. They scroll right by the interesting looking lamp that he would have loved to more closely inspect and instead click on a completely different one, exclaiming in unison, “Oh, maybe this one?”

* * *

They go category by category, then go back to the top and start all over again. There must be at least 50 tabs open in Jemma’s browser by now with ‘potentials’ as the women had started calling them. And every single time Fitz suggests an item it is immediately rejected—if he manages to get his suggestion in at all.

Realizing that maybe he should just let the girls decorate the apartment because he’ll be happy as long as the place has a big comfy bed, Fitz sits back.

But of course, despite what felt like half a lifetime of being ignored, Jemma immediately notices when he tries to relax. “Fitz, we’re supposed to do this _together_.”

He opens his mouth, part of him wanting to interject that he _had_ been trying to participate, but then—all of a sudden, out of nowhere—a little Fitz-devil appears, sitting on his shoulder telling him, “They won’t listen to you anyway. Why don’t you have some fun and do a little experiment?”

So instead of protesting, he replies with, “Umm, sorry, just needed to stretch my back for a second. Maybe it’ll help if I had the laptop… you know… give my idle hands something to do? Let me do the clicking and the scrolling?”

“Oh,” Jemma says, surprised. “Of course.”

So, she switches seats with Fitz and he scoots to the middle. Unnoticed by the others, Fitz starts a timer on his watch, before refocusing on the website in front of him.

* * *

He plays along quite nicely, clicking on anything they want to look at, switching between tabs so they can eliminate some ‘potentials.’ But once in awhile, he takes the reign and makes his own suggestions.

“Hey, what about this ottoman?” he asks, pulling up the STOCKHOLM ottoman details.

“You want a swiveling, dead-cow ottoman for 300 bucks?” Daisy asks surprised. “Dude! _No way!_ ”

“I agree with Daisy,” Jemma adds. “We could spend that kind of money _much_ better elsewhere.”

* * *

“Look. That’s kinda cool!” Fitz exclaims, pulling up the product page for the HAMPEN rug.

“A high pile, bright orange rug?” Daisy asks skeptically. “It’ll be like having a dead Muppet lying in your living room.”

“Plus, those high pile rugs are such crumb catchers,” Jemma adds, her usual practical self.

“Then how about that one?” Fitz suggests instead.

“Umm, are you going to buy the matching gigantic wooden chess pieces, too, grandpa?” is Daisy’s only comment.

And so the evening goes on.

* * *

“I kinda like that floral pattern,” Fitz says regarding one of the POÄNG rockers.

Daisy wrinkles her forehead. “What are you? A wood nymph?”

Fitz is starting to enjoy his little experiment more and more.

* * *

“That couch is kinda funky, don’t you think?” he suggests about 20 minutes later, when they’ve reached the couch category for probably the fifth or sixth time.

“Dude, what kind of cookies have you been eating?” Daisy asks, raising her eyebrows as far as they will go.

“Yes, the pattern is _really_ quite distracting, Fitz,” Jemma adds, doing her best to keep her criticism polite. “And it’s once again _not_ a sleeper sofa.”

“That one’s a sleeper sofa, though!” Fitz counters and selects LYCKSELE LÖVÅS.

 

“Looks like one of those weird pictures that supposedly show you some kind of 3D image when you stare at it long enough,” Daisy comments, grimacing in disgust.

* * *

“That rug! Oh my god I _love_ that rug!” Fitz exclaims, worrying for a second that maybe he’s acted a bit too dramatically.

“ ** _Fitz!_** ” both women exclaim in unison.

“You **_can’t_** be serious!” Daisy asks in utter disbelief.

“That thing is quite possibly the _most hideous_  rug I have _ever_ seen, **_and_** it costs 700 dollars.” Jemma’s reaction is a bit more elaborate, and Fitz tries his best to keep the laughter boiling under his surface in check. “How could you _possibly_ want something _this_ ugly in our apartment! I know your sense of style is not exactly on par with _mine_ , but it can’t _possibly_ be this low! I mean you manage to dress yourself quite nicely… on most days. I just can’t believe…”

Fitz looks at his watch. “3 hours 23 minutes.”

“What?” Daisy and Jemma ask simultaneously.

“ ** _Three_** hours and **_twenty-three_** minutes,” Fitz repeats. “ _That’s_ how long it took you guys to notice that I was making rubbish suggestions.”

For a moment both women stare at him with mouths wide ajar, until Jemma rediscovers her voice. “ ** _Fitz_** , we agreed to do this _together_ , and _you’re_ joking around? This is **_our_** apartment we’re talking about! Do you not care _at all_ what it’ll look like? I thought you would take this more _seriously_!”

“I did!” Fitz defends himself. “But you guys rejected every single _serious_ suggestion I made in the beginning… **_or_** didn’t even let me _show_ you something I liked. I kinda got tired of being the third wheel here.”

“Come on, give me _one_ example of us not letting you show us something you liked,” Daisy says, trying to keep the upper hand.

“You scrolled right by the Exploding Death Star lamp!” Fitz exclaims.

“The exploding…. _What?_ ” Daisy asks, giving him a questioning look.

Fitz focuses back on the laptop resting against his legs, searching the website until he finds the lamp.

“Here,” he says and goes to the product page, crossing his arms over his chest to allow the women to take a look at the lamp.

 Jemma tilts her head ever so slightly. “It _does_ look like an exploding Death Star.”

“That’s kinda cool,” Daisy agrees.

* * *

When all three of them finally fall asleep next to each other two hours later, the laptop still resting on Fitz’s lap, they still have about 50 tabs open with ‘potentials’ in every category from bathroom to kitchen to living room. But Jemma and Fitz had selected a simple, espresso king-sized bed frame, a grey-heather sleeper sofa, and they had _all_ agreed on the Exploding Death Star lamp.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaand, if you look at the last three things, you get a pretty good idea of what our apartment looks like ;)
> 
> P.S. I actually kinda like the swiveling dead-cow ottoman.


End file.
